The Dateless Wonders
by cinnamon badge
Summary: [GeorgeLuna] [threeshot] While Fred and Angelina fling themselves around the dance floor at the Yule Ball, George Weasley finds himself lonely and bored. Then he notices that he's not the only person there without a date.
1. The Dateless Wonders

**Disclaimer:** The plot's mine, as are a few obvious things. The characters and setting are not.

**A/N:** Since George's date to the Triwizard Yule Ball is never mentioned in canon, I'm going to take that to mean he didn't have one. Stephen Cornfoot was created by JKR, but has not yet appeared in canon. According to her, he's a Ravenclaw in Harry's year, so he's one year older than Luna.

**The Dateless Wonders**

When they had told Harry and Ron to get dates to the Yule Ball before all the good ones were taken, George hadn't really thought it was possible. He was George Weasley, wasn't he? If he could take aim at a bludger during the worst hailstorm Hogwarts had ever seen, and hit said bludger directly at Slytherin's seeker right when he was about to grab the Snitch from under Charlie's nose (what a match _that _had been), finding a date to the Ball would be a piece of cake in comparison.

But apparently, he was wrong.

He'd approached Katie Bell first, right after Fred asked Angelina, as they were sitting down in Transfiguration. "Oi Katie," he said, confident of his success, "go to the Yule Ball with me?"

"Sorry George," she said, smiling sadly. "I'm going with Lee Jordan."

"Right," he said, nodding, wondering if death by dungbombs would be too kind a fate for Lee.

"You could try Alicia," she said, right as McGonagall strode into the classroom. "I don't think anyone's asked her yet."

Wrong again. "Oh, sorry George," Alicia said during supper that evening. "I'm spending Christmas at home with my family. Pass the treacle tart?"

George scratched his ginger head, frowning up and down the Gryffindor table as everyone else chatted and giggled about the upcoming Ball. His life had been occupied completely by Quidditch and playing pranks, and the girls on the house team were the only ones he really had a chance with; charming the toilets in the fifth floor girls' bathroom to fountain water and obscenities did not exactly win one party dates. Who on earth could he ask that would accept?

"I think the only girl left in Gryffindor is Eloise Midgen," Fred teased him a week before the Ball, as they sneaked down to the kitchens for a midnight snack. George was, unfortunately, still without a date. "You waited too long, brother mine. Even ickle Ronniekins got a date, Harry told me the two of them're taking the Patil twins."

"You mean he still hasn't got the stones to ask Hermione?" George chuckled, his own predicament forgotten. "If he was any less obvious --"

"We wouldn't be able to get on his wick about it," Fred finished. An eager house elf jumped to attention the moment they stepped into the kitchens, and the two of them asked for the chocolate cake that had been served for dessert earlier at supper. "But evidently she got a date with someone else. So that means you're the only Gryffindor besides the lovely Eloise without a date."

"I wouldn't be caught dead with her, my uglier half," George said grumpily.

"Then you're pretty well screwed, aren't you?" Fred ducked and laughed when George took an angry swipe at him.

When the day of the Ball had dawned and he still had not asked anyone to go with him, George had announced to Fred that he would tag along with him and Angelina.

"Oh no you won't, little brother," Fred said, turning to face him. They stopped in a corridor on the third floor on their way to the Great Hall for breakfast. Peeves was at the other end, swinging from a chandelier and singing a rather raunchy song. "Me and Angelina've got plans, you see."

"Like?"

"Like dancing and stuff. And maybe sneaking off later to --"

"Right, right, no need to go further." Peeves flew by and blew a raspberry at him.

"You'll just have to sit and watch, mate. It's your own fault you didn't get a date."

"Gosh, Fred. What would I do without you to keep my spirits up?"

Fred rolled his eyes and punched him playfully on the shoulder, but he gave George a sympathetic look as they continued down to breakfast. "Fill your pockets with things to do, then," he said. "The professors will all be tipsy and hardly paying attention. It's Christmas, after all."

"Dungbombs," George said, already imaging the potential chaos in his head. "And maybe some Puking Pastilles --"

"Don't forget the Fainting Fancies," Fred said with a wink. "What's a Ball without the guests dropping left and right?"

And that's how he had wound up here, outfitted in a set of Charlie's old dress robes, bending back the tines of his dinner fork as he watched Fred and Angelina do something out on the dance floor that some might have called having a hysterical fit. The other students were giving them a wide berth, afraid for their limbs, and some were laughing uproariously, but George only muttered something not all that nice under his breath and went back to twisting his fork out of shape.

Fred had been as good as his word and proceeded to spend the entire evening with Angelina, shoving his face full of food and talking with his mouth full and doing that strange dance of theirs and ignoring George. Not even the temptation of the Canary Creams in George's pocket could lure him from Angelina's side. And what was the point of doing a prank if his twin wasn't there to enjoy the result with him? So George sat at the tables where they had eaten supper, destroying his fork and thinking self-pitying things about his singleton status. "I'm the dateless wonder," he muttered under his breath.

"No you're not, George," someone said behind him.

George started at the unexpected voice, and turned to see a rather dazed-looking blonde girl seated at the table immediately behind his, dressed in pale blue robes. Like him, she too was alone.

"I -- I'm sorry?" he said, frowning, not sure he had heard her right. What was she doing eavesdropping on him anyway?

"I said you're not the dateless wonder." Her voice had a dreamy quality, as though she was thinking about something else entirely while she spoke. "The Dateless Wonder is Gregory Kettleburn, on the Wizarding Wireless. He has a dating help program every Saturday morning."

"Oh, er, right." He gave her an awkward smile and was about to return to his black study when something occurred to him. He looked back at her and found her still staring at him with her unnerving, protuberant eyes. "How did you know which one I was? Which twin, I mean? Lucky guess?"

"Oh no," she said pleasantly. "It was easy, really. You have a little scar under your left ear, and Fred doesn't. And there's a group of freckles on the back of your neck that look like the Phoenix. Fred's freckles look like Sagittarius."

George's fingers flew to the spot under his left ear. He had forgotten about that scar, a memento from an experiment gone wrong. "How did you notice that?" he said.

"I notice all kinds of things," she said. "But I have to admit, I also knew it was you because Ginny is my friend, and she told me that you hadn't asked anyone to the Yule Ball."

The mention of Ginny sent his mind into action, and he struggled to remember all the friends his sister had talked about at home when she wasn't drooling over Harry. A blonde girl, one not in their house or he would have recognized her right off... "Luna?" George said uncertainly. "Are you Luna Lovegood?"

"Yes, I am," she said, sounding pleased. "Ginny is my best friend, and she talks about her brothers a lot. She's my only friend, really."

He squirmed a little at that. Now he could also remember Ginny saying something about Luna's uncanny habit of saying the most uncomfortably truthful things. "Oh, er..."

"You don't have to say anything," she said. "I don't mind not having a lot of friends, and I don't want you to say something you don't really mean."

"Right," he said, still stifled by her unrelenting honesty. Nevertheless, he pushed on with their conversation, even getting up and turning his chair around to face her. It wasn't as though he had anything better to do. "But -- hey, why are you even here? I thought only fourth years and up were allowed to come to the Yule Ball. Did somebody ask you?"

"Yes," she said. "Stephen Cornfoot asked me last week if I would go to the Ball with him. He's a fourth year, and all the girls in Ravenclaw act like they've been struck with the Pixie Pox every time he walks past them."

"Er...Pixie Pox?"

"Oh yes, it's a terrible disease," she said, shaking her head. "Luckily I seem to be immune to it. Anyway, he asked me if I would go to the Ball with him. I thought he was just playing a trick on me -- it's been known to happen." She said it with such resignation and acceptance that, for the first time, George was ashamed of the pranking devices stuffed in his pockets. He twitched his robes over his knees, hoping she wouldn't notice any telltale lumps.

"But he told me he really wanted to go with me," Luna was saying, "so I said yes. He said to meet him at the doors to the Great Hall just before supper, and we'd go in together and get seats."

"So...where is he?" George looked towards the refreshment table, though he thought it had been rather too long for Stephen to be gone, even if he went to get them drinks or food.

"He came down with Hannah Abbott," she said, and George had a sinking feeling in his chest. "She was his date. I was confused for a minute, and wondered how he could have forgotten about asking me, but now I know. I should really warn you, stay away from Stephen tonight. I don't want the Gippyslink to affect you too. I tried to warn Hannah, but I didn't want to get too close without having earmuffs handy."

George's mind went blank for a moment, and he wondered if what she had just said was in English. "The -- I beg your pardon?"

"Gippyslink," she said, very seriously. "Daddy just published an article about them in the last issue of the _Quibbler_. They're invisible little bugs that crawl in your ears and eat your memory. If you don't get them removed immediately they can cause permanent brain damage."

George released a breath, feeling something oddly like relief. This strange girl had just had the cruelest of pranks played on her, in a place that would have guaranteed maximum public embarrassment, and she had passed it off as the work of some probably nonexistent creature. He could only shake his head in admiration.

"Why are you still here then?" George asked. "I mean, you can't be having that much fun without a date."

"Well, I went to the trouble of writing Daddy for dress robes, so I reckoned I should wear them." She looked down at her robes, and he then fully appreciated how strongly the color complimented her eyes. "I've never had dress robes before. It seemed an awful waste."

"I'll tell you what's a waste," George spat, "Stephen Cornfoot. A waste of space."

"It's not his fault he's got a Gippyslink in his brain," Luna said. "I really don't blame him at all."

He looked at her again, knowing that if he had been in her position he would have done some shouting and ranting and then cast one of his best hexes on the Ravenclaw git. He didn't stop to think why he was feeling so protective of a girl he barely knew. But Luna was the picture of serenity, humming to herself along with the song, which he recognized as "Toil and Trouble," one of his favorites.

"You like the Weird Sisters too?" George ventured, after they had sat in companionable silence for a few minutes.

"Oh yes," she said excitedly, and for the first time that evening her eyes sparkled. He liked the way they looked like that -- not quite so disturbing. "Daddy's interviewed them a few times for the _Quibbler_, and each time he does he takes me with him. They autographed one of my records for me last time."

"Really? Wow," he said, truly impressed. He and Fred had bought all of their Weird Sisters records secondhand, which usually meant that the casing was ripped up or nonexistent. That wasn't the kind of thing you would want to show your favorite band.

"You don't seem like you would like them," she said, after another pause.

"I don't? Why not?"

"They're really loud, aren't they? And their songs are about getting into trouble and being depressed and things like that."

He chuckled. "I get into trouble plenty."

She laughed loudly, in a strange, high pitch that had a few of the closest dancers turning to look at her peculiarly. "I know that, George," she said, still smiling. "I mean you seem like you would listen to mellower music. Like Icarius and the Wings, or something."

He frowned. He'd heard of Icarius and the Wings before, of course, but he had never heard any of their music. "Why mellower?"

"Because that's the way you are most of the time," she said, tilting her head to one side. Now that one of her ears was uncovered, he could see that she was wearing what looked like tiny snow globe earrings. They dangled an inch or two from golden studs, and as he watched the snow settled to reveal a brightly-lit miniature Christmas tree. "Fred is the leader, and the louder one. You follow him. And you say less than he does."

"How do you know all of that?" George said, suddenly feeling a bit hot. He barely knew this girl, other than hearing her name once or twice from Ginny, and yet she seemed to know him intimately. He scratched the back of his neck, where the Phoenix freckles were.

"I told you, I notice things." She straightened her head again and the snow globe earrings were once more hidden by her stringy hair. "I don't have any friends to talk to besides Ginny, so I spend most of my time studying people. I know that Neville Longbottom has a cowlick on the back of his head that won't flatten even when the rest of his hair does. I know Pansy Parkinson picks her nose when she thinks no one's looking. I know --"

"Okay, I believe you," George said quickly, trying to get the mental picture of Pansy with a finger up her pug nose out of his head. "Did you ever think of becoming an investigator? You'd probably be good at it, you know."

She gazed at him a long time, unblinkingly, through the end of one song and halfway through another. Just when George was going to ask if she was all right (hell, maybe there _were _such things as Hippyfinks, or whatever those things were), she said, very calmly, "Are you making fun of me?"

There was a strange tightening in his gut, and George pitied this poor girl who had been so ill-treated by her own house and others. "I would never make fun of you," he said, and he was astonished to find that he really meant it. "I was serious."

"All right then," she said, as though nothing had happened. "Daddy wants me to take over the _Quibbler _when he retires, and I really don't know how he'd react if I said no."

"An investigative reporter, then," he said. "They need to be very attentive to details, like you are."

"That's a good point," she said, nodding slowly. "I must tell Daddy next time I write home."

"So your dad's the editor-in-chief of the _Quibbler_?" he said.

"Yes. Do you read it?"

"Er -- sometimes." The last time he had read something in the _Quibbler_ had been with Fred and Lee, and they were howling with laughter about an article outlining how Fudge had been involved in an illegal operation that was smuggling crumple-horned snorkacks into England. Wisely, he neglected to mention to Luna that he thought her father's magazine was a joke. Instead, he asked, "What's your mum do?"

"Oh, my mother died when I was little," she said, in that same dreamy, somehow singsong voice he had come to like.

George blinked, and leaned forward on his knees. "I'm sorry."

"Thank you." She looked out at the dance floor, and George followed her eyes to see that she was looking at Ron. His youngest brother was seated at another table across the Great Hall, with Harry and Parvati to his right and Padma to his left. He in turn was darkly watching the rather beautiful witch dancing with Viktor Krum, who seconds later George realized was Hermione.

"You know my brother Ron?"

"No, not really," Luna said, still looking at him. "Ginny's never introduced us. I hope she will, though."

That strange tightening returned to his stomach, and George wondered why he felt a brief prick of jealousy. Why should he be jealous? And of ickle Ronniekins, no less? Ron was so wrapped up in ogling Hermione that he barely even noticed there were other specimens of the female sex in his presence. _And this girl is only thirteen, fourteen at most, you pedophile_, he told himself. _Wait, why am I thinking of her like that? You're disgusting, George Weasley._

He was interrupted in his very confused train of thought by the approach of a pinched-looking Professor McGonagall. "Miss Lovegood, I thought it was well known that no students under fourth year were allowed to come to the Ball this evening," she said, giving the girl a prize-winning glare. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Professor Flitwick will contact you once classes recommence about serving a detention."

"It's all right Professor," George blurted out, not sure what he was saying until the words were already out of his mouth. "I invited her. She's my date."

McGonagall's eyebrows nearly disappeared under the brim of her hat, and he peripherally saw Luna turning her wide eyes on him. "Very well, Mr. Weasley," the older witch said, giving him a head to toe look that would have made a lesser student shake in his shoes. "Forget about that detention, Miss Lovegood. Enjoy the rest of your evening." With a wide sweep of her black formal robes, McGonagall had left them, gone to separate two Hufflepuffs that were dancing rather closely out on the dance floor.

George felt his face and tips of his ears heat in embarrassment, and he had no idea what he'd say to Luna now he'd gone and claimed her as his date without asking. Luna saved him from speaking.

"George?"

"Yeah?" He finally forced himself to meet her eyes.

She smiled, showing off even white teeth. "I think that's the nicest thing anyone's done for me."

George's face went even redder. "Oh, well..." He leaned back in his seat, legs akimbo, struggling to maintain an air of nonchalance. "I just didn't want you to get in trouble, is all. Ginny really likes you, so I reckoned you're all right."

"You didn't even have to say I was your date," she went on. "You could have said we came as friends. I've never gone anywhere with a boy just as friends before."

"Er..."

"It's okay George," she said, and she reached over and patted his arm. His arm felt all tingly afterwards -- but then he realized that was a bad thing. "We can just be friends. I'm used to boys not wanting to be my date."

"Right. Friends." As he said this the lead singer of the Weird Sisters announced that the next song would be the last of the evening, and he thanked all the students on the floor for being such a great audience. George looked at his watch. It was nearly midnight already, and he absently wondered where the evening had gone.

"It's late, isn't it?" Luna said, anticipating what he was about to say. "I suppose I should go to bed now. I had a lovely time talking to you, George."

"Yeah," he said, "me too." He grinned at her and she grinned back. "Can I walk you back to Ravenclaw's dormitories?"

"Certainly." She rose gracefully from her seat, followed by George, and together they walked out of the Great Hall. She started heading down a corridor near the kitchens, with him falling into step beside her.

"Do you know where the Ravenclaw common room is?" Luna asked.

"I know this castle like the back of my hand," he boasted.

"Then you know the quickest way to get to Professor Flitwick's class?"

"Easy. Staircase by the boys' bathroom on the fifth floor."

She stopped suddenly and grabbed his hand. George, taken by surprise, felt his heart shoot up to somewhere near his throat at the contact. "What are you doing?"

"Testing you." She held his hand up in front of her face and peered at it intently. "How many freckles are there going across your knuckles?"

"Huh?"

Luna lowered his hand enough to meet his eyes. "You said you knew the castle like the back of your hand."

"Oh." He chuckled, but made no move to extract his hand from hers. "It's an expression, Luna. I have no idea how many freckles I have on my knuckles."

"Twenty-seven," she said. "Although that last one looks like a liquefied toad's liver stain."

He blinked. "How can you tell?"

"My mother worked for an apothecary," she said. "I'm very good in Potions."

"Could've used your help last year, then," he said, grinning. "Me and Fred got pretty poor marks in Potions when we took the O.W.L.'s."

"Really?" Luna said, frowning. She tilted her head and there were her snow globe earrings again. "I thought you must be good at it. Especially since some of your pranks involve highly intricate Potions knowledge."

He felt his ears turn red once more, this time from her praise. "Well...thanks."

"Do you want me to kiss you?"

Her change in topic was so abrupt it took several seconds for George's brain to catch up, and when it did... "_What_?"

"I was going to give Stephen Cornfoot a kiss after we left the Ball," she explained. She slowly released his hand, and he was sorry she let go. "To thank him for being my date. But you ended up being my date instead, so I thought maybe I should kiss you. What do you think?"

"Luna," he said, swallowing, "I'm a sixth year, I'm almost seventeen. You're a third year. I really don't think --"

"On the cheek, I meant," she said, and for the first time ever he saw a pretty blush on her cheeks. "I didn't mean... but George, did you forget? We said we'd be friends." The blush faded and she looked concerned. "Oh no. The Gippyslink didn't get you, did it?"

"I wouldn't be all that surprised if it had," George said, floundering. "What didyou mean?"

"I meant a kiss on the cheek. I've never kissed a boy on the mouth, and I would only kiss a boy on the mouth if he was my boyfriend. Do you want to be my boyfriend, George?"

_Maybe when you're actually of age, and it feels less like cradle robbing_, he thought. "Er..."

"You don't have to answer that. But do you want me to kiss you on the cheek?"

"Sure," he said, before he could think about it too much. She stood on tiptoe and planted a dignified kiss on his cheek, that left a burning feeling on his skin. "I hope you had fun, even though that Stephen Cornfoot git was rotten to you," he said.

"Stephen who?" Luna said, smiling. "Good night, George."

"Night, Luna. But I have a confession to make. I'm actually Fred."

She laughed, that too-loud, raucous laugh of hers. "Good one, George." They grinned at each other one last time and she muttered a password at the painting closest to them. It swung inward and he had a brief glance of the Ravenclaw common room before the painting had swung shut behind her.

He turned back, shoving his hands in his pockets, and started for Gryffindor Tower. His head was a mess of tangled thoughts, most of them centered on Luna, and he couldn't make head or tail of any of them. The Ball must have officially ended by then, for there were Ravenclaws walking past him in couples and clumps, interrupting his solitude, singing the songs the Weird Sisters had played and talking about how much fun they had had.

One group of students in particular caught his eye. He had only a vague idea of what Hannah Abbott looked like, since she was in Ron's year, but he thought that the girl approaching him had to be her. There was no doubt who the boy holding her hand was.

"I've told you, Stephen," another Ravenclaw boy said to Hannah's date, "it's impossible to faze her at all."

"No, didn't you hear?" Stephen said. "She was convinced that I got attacked by one of those made-up creatures of hers, and it was affecting my memory. She tried to warn Hannah about it. Can you believe some people?" They all laughed.

George spun on his heel just as the group went by. "Are you Stephen Cornfoot?" he called back to them.

Hannah's date, a handsome boy with curly dark hair and cornflower blue eyes, turned and raised his eyebrows. "What do you want, Gryffindor?" he said lazily.

George punched him in the face.

"Muggle fight!" one of the other boys screeched as Stephen was knocked to the ground. "_Muggle fight in the corridor_!"

George stood over the fallen boy as students crowded around them and buzzed with anticipation. "Listen carefully," he said, narrowing his eyes. "If I ever hear of you giving Luna trouble again, I might accidentally slip something nasty into your food at supper. Got it?"

"Yeah," Stephen said thickly, blood trickling from his mouth. George glared at all the Ravenclaws around him and they quickly parted to let him pass. He had to get away from the scene of the crime before a professor showed up, but for once the idea of serving a detention wasn't loathsome to him. Not when it had been for a just cause. Nor did he think of how quickly the gossip would spread through the school the next day, and even more so when all the students were back for winter term. Soon everyone would know that one of the Weasley twins had defended Luna Lovegood's honor. And George didn't care.

The sixth year boys' dorm was almost empty when he arrived in Gryffindor Tower, and he had a good idea that there were probably some deserted classrooms around the school that weren't so deserted right then. George removed his dress robes and pulled on some pajama bottoms printed with the yellow-and-brown South London Sphinxes logo (Ron would have killed him if he saw them), and slid between the sheets of his bed.

Only then did he realize that he could still feel Luna's kiss on his cheek. He smiled up at the canopy above his bed and soon was fast asleep.


	2. Detention Makes the Heart Grow Fonder

**Disclaimer:** The plot's mine. The characters and setting are not.

**A/N:** I'm still debating what I'm going to do with this. Twoshot? Series? All one story? Stay tuned. If George seems overly dramatic, I blame Eric Clapton: I've been listening to "Bell Bottom Blues" on a continuous loop for a few days now.

**Detention Makes the Heart Grow Fonder**

For the remainder of Christmas break there had been talk of little else besides the Weasley twin that had punched the git Stephen Cornfoot. Though only Ravenclaws had actually been present, everyone knew that they were the worst gossips, so naturally the whole school knew about it by the following morning. Fred had given him a strange look, after having heard about it from Lee and Katie.

"Everyone thinks it was me, you know," he said in an undertone during breakfast. "Can't imagine why, since I was clearly snogging Angelina behind the hippogriff tapestry on the second floor -- she'll even vouch for me."

George was about to roll his eyes and tell him that that was really far too much information, especially since he was in the middle of eating, when he remembered something Luna had said to him at the Ball. _You seem like you would listen to mellower music...that's the way you are most of the time._ He just wasn't the type to go around punching people, he realized. He certainly never had before, and he knew why as soon as his knuckles throbbed again. They had been painful to move since he'd gotten up that morning.

"Just keeping up your rebel image, little brother," George said cheerily. "What would you do without me?"

"Well Angie's convinced that we tricked her. She thinks she spent the whole night at the Ball with you while I went around roughing up fourth years."

"She really thinks I would dance like someone put a Flailing Hex on my legs?"

Fred's response was to thwack him soundly on the head.

Harry and Ron came down to eat not much later, rubbing their eyes and yawning. "What's this we've heard about a Ravenclaw getting punched up last night?" Ron asked them, as he helped himself to something from every platter in sight.

"And what do you two have to do with it?" Harry said.

"Us?" George gave him and innocent look, and placed a hand over his heart. "Harry, your suspicion is upsetting."

"Why would you think," Fred said, "that we'd have anything to do with any troublemaking in this school?"

"I heard it was over some nutty third year," Ron said with a snicker. "Sounds barking if you ask me."

Ginny sat down on the other side of George, still yawning, but alert enough to pick up what they were talking about. "Hey," she said, frowning at Ron, "that 'nutty third year' happens to be one of my friends. You know her, Ron, the Lovegoods are one of our closer neighbors."

George felt like an idiot. He couldn't believe he hadn't recognized her. _The last time you saw the Lovegoods was when her mother was still alive_, he told himself. _She was a little kid then, beyond noticing._

"All I know is that Fred and George have something to do with it," Ron was saying to Ginny. "A Ravenclaw played a prank on her at the Ball and one of them punched out the guy responsible."

"Really?" Ginny turned to the twins. "She would be so happy to hear that. She gets made fun of all the time, you know."

"No wonder," Fred said, snorting. "Her dad's the editor of the _Quibbler_, and I don't think the apple fell far from the tree."

Normally George would then make some corroborating statement, agreeing with Fred about Luna's loony behavior; Fred even turned to him and waited for it. And George couldn't bring himself to say what his brother expected him to.

"Well," he said, pushing bangers around on his plate. "I dunno..."

"It was you then, wasn't it?" Ginny looked shocked. "The one who punched Stephen Cornfoot?"

He shrugged and stabbed at his eggs. "I might've lost my temper a bit," he said casually. "Merlin knows the prat deserved it, treating Luna like that."

"Finally," Ginny said, grinning, "someone who doesn't just see her as Loony Luna."

So while beating up Stephen Cornfoot had won him points with his little sister, Harry, Ron, and Fred just gave him curious looks for the rest of their holiday, especially when Stephen made an appearance at supper one night sporting a giant mess of a yellow-green-brown bruise that took up his entire left cheek. "You pack quite a punch, my violent half," Fred said with a low whistle.

"Oh, get stuffed," George said darkly into his food. He couldn't help but feel a twinge of pride.

The interrogation came later that night. Ginny was studying in the library with Hermione, and most of the Gryffindors there had made themselves scarce by sitting along the walls of the common room, doing much delayed homework or playing chess or gobstones. Fred and George had commandeered the two chairs closest to the fire, and were far enough away from everyone else that no one could hear them.

"Why did you do it?"

George looked up from the letter they were writing to Ludo Bagman. "Huh?"

"Punch that kid. He's two years younger than you."

"Wouldn't you've done the same?"

"He played a prank. I don't think I have to remind you that we play pranks _all the time_, dear brother."

"Yeah," George said, "but we don't play pranks like this one. Fred, he tried to humiliate her in front of the whole school."

Fred's red eyebrows drew together as he considered this. "Point taken," he said. "We would never stoop so low as that. That still doesn't explain how you were in front of the Ravenclaw common room when you were supposed to be heading up to Gryffindor Tower."

George snorted. "And I know you headed straight for bed after the Ball, didn't you? But wait, is the hippogriff tapestry on the way up to the Tower? My memory is failing me right now..."

"You walked her back to her room, didn't you?" Fred said shrewdly.

George ducked his head and focused on their blackmail letter. "I think we should tell Bagman that we know about --"

"Don't try to avoid it. I know the way your mind works."

"So what if I did?" George said defiantly. "She was lonely, I didn't have a date, we got to talking, so hex me."

Fred smirked at finally having gotten the truth out. They returned to the letter for another ten minutes, making corrections and additions, and George thought they might have thankfully moved on from the subject.

"She's thirteen," Fred said as they were finishing up their last threats.

George was absorbed in making his penmanship as unidentifiable as possible. "What's thirteen? No, it's only the fifth of January --"

"Luna, you twat. She's only thirteen."

George raised his eyebrows and felt his heart clang against his ribcage. "Thanks Fred, but I think I figured that out for myself when she said she was a friend of Ginny's."

"That doesn't bother you at all?"

They stared at one another in several moments' silent communication, until George realized with a start what Fred was implying. "For Merlin's sake!" he cried, twisting his nose in distaste. "She's a little girl! I'm not -- ack!"

"You walked her back to her room," Fred pointed out.

"Yeah, I didn't ask her to _elope_ with me. We didn't start snogging behind tapestries like some people I know."

Fred held up his hands. "Don't blame me. That's the way everyone else is going to see it, you know. Angry Weasley defends his lover's honor, and all that."

"You've been sneaking peeks at Mum's romance novels again, haven't you."

"I certainly have no idea what you're talking about, my nosy half."

It should have come as no surprise, then, the whispers that soon swept through the corridors once classes resumed and all the students had come back from the holidays. First and second years looked at them in fear as they walked through the hallways, and more often than not gossiping students cut off in mid-sentence as they came closer. More than once George heard Luna's name.

But he hadn't actually seen her. After not-so-subtly approaching Ginny about it, his sister had told him that she had gone home to spend the remaining time off with her father, but she had returned the day before classes began. It was now a week into the new term and he still hadn't seen her. _Of course you wouldn't have seen her, idiot,_ he thought._ You never saw her at all before the Ball. She's in a different house and year._

The only good thing that happened that week was that Angelina had been set straight. "That was definitely my inept brother you were dancing with at the Ball," George told her. "We promise we didn't trick you or anything."

Angelina looked back and forth between them, lips pursed as she judged their truthfulness. "You've confused me before," she said slowly, "but I choose to believe you this time."

"Great," Fred said, grinning. "Now Angie, George tells me you're a fantastic snog --"

They had to run for their lives when she started throwing hexes at them.

Just a few days after they returned to classes, McGonagall approached where they were seated at the Gryffindor table during lunch. "Mr. Weasley," she began.

Ron, Fred, and George all raised their heads. "Yes?"

"Mr. George Weasley," she clarified, and with a sinking feeling George realized his luck had just run out. "I've just been talking to Mr. Cornfoot and Professor Flitwick. It seems there was a bit of a knock-up over holidays and you were directly involved."

"Well, you know me, Professor," George said cheekily. "I never pass up an opportunity to give lousy gits what's coming to them."

He might have been fooling himself, but he thought he saw a flicker of amusement and approval in McGonagall's eyes. "Admirable as your intentions might have been, I do not tolerate violence from any of my students. Report to Professor Flitwick's office at eight o'clock Friday evening for your detention, and don't be late."

"Yes, Professor," he said, and with a curt nod she stalked off.

Fred jabbed him in the ribs once she was out of earshot. "Who'd've thought old Minnie was such a softie?" he teased.

"A softie?" Ron said, his mouth full of shepherd's pie. "McGonagall? Are you serious?"

The twins looked at him and just rolled their eyes. "Thank you for yet again proving you are about as dense as a rock, Ron," said Fred.

"Minnie loves us," George said, "she just has a hard time showing it."

Without even Quidditch to distract him -- really, that was the one drawback to this whole Triwizard Tournament business -- George wasn't quite sure what to do with himself. That indecision only lasted a split second: the second between Fred finding him doing his homework and stuttering, "What have you done with my brother?" By the time Friday had rolled around, they had earned three detentions each for some carefully placed Filibusters Fireworks and several jars of stinksap. What a prank that had been. George got a bit misty-eyed as he thought of those students' faces.

Which was why he almost forgot about his detention with Flitwick that Friday. Fred had been so relentless in keeping the two of them busy with one prank or another that it didn't occur to him until Harry brought it up at supper.

"George," he said suddenly, right in the middle of their discussion of the Holyhead Harpies' season that year, "don't you have a detention in ten minutes?"

George looked at his watch and saw that it was indeed ten to eight. "Bloody -- thanks Harry." He grabbed his bag and stood up.

"Give Flitwick our love," Ron said. George cuffed him on his way out.

On his way up to the professor's office he absently wondered what kind of slave labor Flitwick would subject him to. Thinking a moment, he realized he and George had never served a detention with Flitwick before -- every other professor, yes, but not him. Maybe that was because they actually enjoyed Charms class and found useful applications for the things they learned. It took a very strong Sticking Charm to keep first years from pulling the books their needed off the library shelves, after all.

He knocked on the closed office door and heard Flitwick's little voice bid him enter. George walked into the small room...

...and saw Luna seated across the desk from Flitwick.

The air slammed out of his lungs, and he could only gape at her in surprise. Luna stared back, ever calm and unflappable, a small smile on her lips and her wand stuck behind her ear. "Oh good, you're here now, Mr. Weasley," Flitwick said, standing on his desk chair. "Miss Lovegood will be serving detention with you, since she didn't turn in her homework yesterday. You'll both be cleaning up my classroom, it's rather a mess, I'm afraid, after this afternoon's lessons..." He jumped down from his chair and led them out and down the hall to his classroom, George and Luna trailing behind.

He couldn't think of a single thing to say to her. She surely knew by now about what he had done to Stephen Cornfoot; what was her reaction? Would she thank him for defending her? Be angry he had resorted to violence? Think his brain had been affected by a hippyfink? And then there was the way he was just so damn _aware_ of her, walking to his right. She was singing something under her breath and twirling a lock of hair around her finger, she did have very nice hair -- _You're too old to be thinking that_, he told himself desperately, _too old, too old, too old..._

"If you need me I'll be in my office correcting essays," Flitwick said. "Be thorough, my first years were practicing Levitation Charms today, and I think a few of the feathers got stuck up in the rafters." He pointed up and George ripped his eyes away from Luna long enough to see that there were, indeed, several white feathers draped over the high wooden ceiling beams.

When the door shut behind the tiny professor, Luna pulled her wand out from behind her ear. "We haven't started Severing Charms," she said, gesturing to the basket of fruit that lay in halves. "Do you mind --?"

"Sure," George said quickly, eager to get this done and over with. He tossed his bag in the corner and pulled his wand out of his back pocket. While he worked on undoing the numerous elementary Severing Charms placed on the apples and oranges in the basket, Luna set about gathering together all of the white feathers that lay around the room, almost as if the contents of a giant pillow had been released.

It was silent for a good twenty minutes, as they did their respective tasks. George could do Repairing Charms with his eyes closed (a result of blowing up so many things at the Burrow, and hoping their mum wouldn't notice if they put everything to rights afterwards), so he moved on to a box labeled _Disillusionment Charm_ -- he didn't know what they were until he tapped with his wand the first object he could feel and saw a colored block from a building set for children.

"I had a set like that once," Luna said dreamily. George jumped; she had somehow gotten behind him without him noticing. "When I was little."

"Yeah, I think I did too. Probably blew it up." She smiled at that, and the corners of his mouth were inevitably drawn upwards in an answering grin. "Why are you here?"

She blinked, her eyes large and round. "I have detention, George," she said.

"For forgetting to turn in your homework? You're a Ravenclaw, I thought Ravenclaws would rather die than not do homework."

"All right," she said, twirling her wand in her fingers. He continued returning the blocks to a visible state. "I really did do my homework. I wanted to serve a detention with Professor Flitwick."

"But why?" George said, and then he couldn't believe how stupid he was. "Because of me and what I did to Stephen Cornfoot," he said, sagging a little. "Look, Luna --"

"Remember when you told Professor McGonagall that I was your date to the Yule Ball? And I told you that that was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for me?"

George felt the tips of his ears turn pink. "Er...yeah..."

"Well, I think that punching Stephen Cornfoot for being mean to me is now the nicest thing anyone has done for me. Not that I think it was right." She frowned and shook her head. "It got you a detention, didn't it? And Stephen's face got all swollen like a puffapod, and turned funny colors. It looked very painful. I'm sure he didn't deserve being hit _that_ hard."

He shrugged, turning over one of the blocks in his hand. "I suppose I did get a bit carried away."

"I don't think you should punch everyone in the school just because they've done something to me," she went on, gazing at him steadily. George couldn't look away. "You'd be in detention until your seventh year."

"Everyone in the school bothers you?" he said incredulously.

"Almost," she said. "Your brother Ronald doesn't, and neither do most of the older Gryffindors. I don't let it worry me, they are never especially cruel."

George blinked, not believing what he was hearing. "You haven't told Dumbledore or anything?" he pressed. "Professor Flitwick?"

"No. I don't tell Daddy either, he would only worry about me." She toyed with her earrings, and he noticed that tonight they looked like...butterbeer corks. "Like I said, George, no one is hurting me, so I just don't pay it any attention."

"But still --"

"I don't think you should get in trouble over me anymore," she said. "Only get in trouble for your pranks."

He chuckled, feeling inexplicably lighter. "Yeah, all right. We did a brilliant one on Wednesday, up near the library --"

And as they continued cleaning up the Charms classroom he told her about the latest prank he and Fred had done, and several other memorable ones going back nearly to their first year. She laughed again and again, that too-loud laugh that he had once found annoying. Strange that he didn't mind the sound of it so much anymore.

"That's why I thought you must be good at Potions," she said, after he explained how they had developed Fainting Fancies and Canary Creams. "You really have to know what each of those ingredients does before you use it."

"Oh no, it was complete trial and error," he said modestly. "I haven't got the slightest idea what lacewing flies do, all I know is that they affect the strength of the swoon in the Fainting Fancies. We put too much in the first batch and Fred said I was knocked out in a dead faint for almost three hours."

There was an odd look on her face then, and she turned back to arranging a box of teacups without saying anything. George frowned and wondered what he had said wrong.

"Luna --?"

"We are friends, aren't we, George?" she interrupted him.

"Sure, but --"

"Then I feel it is my duty as a friend to tell you to be more careful," she said, and abruptly the dreamy quality of her voice was gone. "There's a reason why Professor Snape only accepts the best students into his N.E.W.T. classes, you know. It's because working with Potions can be...fatal."

She looked away and toyed with her earrings. George was about to scoff off her worry and say that he'd survived all right so far, when -- _my mother died when I was little. She worked for an apothecary._ He put two and two together in a way that would have made McGonagall proud.

"Your mum," he said, staring at her.

"She was always experimenting with different things," she said, tracing carved graffiti in one of the student desks. "Did you know she was part of the research team that developed the Wolfsbane Potion? She was working on another one -- she thought she could make an even stronger version. But the ingredients in Wolfsbane Potion have to be mixed just right, and --" She made a careless motion with her hand that indicated an explosion, and George's insides twisted painfully.

"I'm so sorry, Luna," he said. He felt inadequate, his words meaningless, especially when he saw that her eyes were shining with unshed tears.

"Oh, it's all right," she said, and the singsong, musical quality of her voice was back. She blinked several times and coughed into her fist, until he thought he might have imagined her tears. "Daddy says everything happens for a reason, even if we don't know what that reason is right away. I know I'll see her again one day."

He looked down at his hands a moment before speaking. "Luna, I know you told me to be careful, but I'm not going to stop doing experiments," he said. "It's one of the few things I enjoy, coming up with joke products with Fred."

"You wouldn't change just because of me, would you?" Luna said, her eyes wide. "Oh no, George, don't ever stop with your pranks. They're so much fun to watch, and so clever. Just don't be careless with them."

"Ah, you're a member of the fan club, are you?" George teased.

"Fan club? No, no one's asked me to be in a club before. How do I join?"

"Er..." He shrugged sheepishly. "There's nothing official..."

Luna peered at him a moment. "You weren't making fun of me, were you?"

He swallowed. "Luna, I already told you I'd never make fun of you. It was just an expression, that's all. Like when I said I knew the castle like the back of my hand."

"Right." She threw her head back and laughed. "One day I'll remember that we're friends, and you're nice to me because you want to be."

Flitwick scurried into the room then, and George snapped to attention as though he'd been caught doing something wrong. Were they standing too close together? How did it look to a third party? "Oh, very good," Flitwick said, clapping his hands together as he saw his room tidy once more. "Yes, I think you're done for the night. I'll expect that assignment in class next week, Miss Lovegood."

"Yes, Professor," she said.

"And I hope you'll refrain from hitting my students in the future, Mr. Weasley," Flitwick said with a chuckle. "Stick to those marvelous pranks of yours, all right?"

George grinned. He didn't think he'd ever gotten praise from a teacher for his pranks before. "Thanks, Professor," he said, grabbing his bag up off the floor.

Flitwick waved goodbye to them as they left the room and started down the corridor. "I think I should warn you," George said as they walked, "I'd stay away from the fourth floor next Monday as much as possible. Particularly after lunch."

Luna gazed at him with wide eyes. "Thanks for the warning."

"No problem," he said with a grin, and he whistled a little as they walked. He and Fred were planning on setting off some Dungbombs then -- not their most ingenious prank, not by a long shot, but they were running low on supplies. It was a good thing that the next weekend was a Hogsmeade weekend; they could pay a visit to Zonko's and restock their arsenal.

"Are you going to Hogsmeade?" George asked before he realized what he was saying.

She didn't answer at first, for they were nearing the library. A fifth year was just leaving, and through the door George caught a flash of Weasley-red hair. Ron. He, Harry, and Hermione had been researching like crazy to figure out the Second Task of the Triwizard Tournament. He winced at the very thought of the wailing sound that darn golden egg had made when opened.

But this was the second time he'd caught Luna staring at Ron, for she looked even more dazed than usual at the glimpse of him in the library. Was it possible that she...? "I'm sorry," she said after a moment. "I think you said something, but I didn't hear you."

"Never mind," he said. "Look, I said I'd see Fred soon, so I've got to run. See you around?"

"Good night, George," she said, and she floated away down the hall.

When he arrived up in Gryffindor Tower Fred was awaiting him near the stairs that led up to the boys' dorms. "I thought we said we were going to work on our order forms," Fred said in a low voice in greeting.

"Really corking to see you too, Fred," George spat. "No, detention wasn't that bad, thanks for asking."

"What's gotten into you?" Fred said, frowning. "What's with the foul mood?"

George stomped up to their dormitory, unsure how to answer him without telling him the truth. Because he knew just what had gotten into him. Luna had. Luna and her now-obvious crush on ickle Ronniekins and the regret he felt that he couldn't just punch Ron the way he had punched Stephen Cornfoot.

He realized with a start that Fred had been right._ Best not tell him though, _he thought,_ or there'll be no living with him._


	3. Corking to See You

**Corking to See You**

George kept his promise to himself and did not tell Fred anything about his feelings for Luna Lovegood. He hardly ever kept anything from his brother, yet the thought that he had a secret from Fred made him feel almost ...empowered. He was independent, breaking away from the mold, standing alone. It wasn't for lack of trying, though, that Fred didn't realize the truth.

"You staring at Loony again?" Fred would often interject during meals.

George was always quick to reply, "Why would I, when I can stare at Angelina?" He winked at Fred's unofficial girlfriend, who would giggle and wink back, just to cheese off Fred.

"Oi, get your own girl!" Fred elbowed him.

Lee got in on it too, since Fred probably reckoned that with the two of them ribbing him about Luna he would wear down twice as fast. "Going to Hogsmeade this weekend?" Lee asked him as they sat down in Defense Against the Dark Arts on Tuesday.

"Yeah, mate," George said.

"Going to check out Zonko's?"

"Sure."

"Going to ask Luna to go with you?"

"Of course not, what are you talking about?"

It had crossed his mind several times to ask Luna to go with him. More than several, actually. She was a third year and just old enough to go, and the idea of spending an afternoon in Hogsmeade with her enticed him a lot more than spending yet another visit finishing Fred's sentences. They could go to the Three Broomsticks and talk over butterbeers in one of those little tables in the corners, away from the prying eyes of their housemates. He could show her the stores he liked to visit, she could tell him more about the _Quibbler_ and whether or not she really believed in Crumple-Horned Snorkacks and Gippyslinks.

But these daydreams were usually interrupted by the presence of Ron. George and Luna would be sitting in the Three Broomsticks of his imagination, about to hold hands or maybe even snog, when Ron would come thundering towards them.

"Hands off, Fred!" Ron would shout, looking rather more dashing and heroic than in real life.

"Oh Ronald," Luna said, swooning. Somehow her standard student uniform had turned into shimmering blue robes, and her figure that of a woman at least ten years older. "My love, my true love!"

"My lady, I shall save you from this prat!" Ron pulled out his wand and hexed George across the room.

"Ronald, my hero!" Luna sighed. She put her arms around his neck and they flew away on a hippogriff that had been standing incongruously in the middle of the room.

Fred would then lean over and ask if the doodle George was scratching out was supposed to be Ron with a bad case of boils, because that's what it looked like to him.

The only time George was able to see Luna was during meals, when everyone was diving for the last piece of treacle tart and arguing over who got to it first. Luna sat alone, at the end closest to the staff table, usually with a book or back issue of the _Quibbler_. He made it his mission to catch her eye as many times as possible, and Luna seemed to have caught on because she would toy with him: George would look right at her, from between Angelina and Alicia's shoulders, staring intently while she pretended to be oblivious. Luna's eyes floated all around the Great Hall, taking in Dumbledore, the other students, the enchanted sky above them, whatever book she was reading. Then, just when he was about to look away and chalk it up as a loss, Luna looked right at him and smiled broadly. George grinned back and returned to his meal and daydreams.

And yet, he didn't have the stones to ask her to Hogsmeade. In that respect he was no better than Ron, whose infatuation with Hermione was so well known, there was a pool going for when he'd finally ask her out. The process was a basic one, one that had worked several times for him in the past: George met the girl. Decided he liked her. Asked her to Hogsmeade. So where was the problem?

"Right, mate," he said into his mirror one morning, while Fred was finishing up in the loo. "You can do this. You're George Weasley."

"No, remember?" His twin had come out of the bathroom, his hair still damp from bathing. "You're Fred today, Fred."

"Oh yeah," George said, grinning evilly. "How could I have forgotten, George?" They had stopped switching places last year, but ever since Mad-Eye Moody had arrived with his magical eye, they had been dying to know what kinds of things it could see through.

They didn't have Defense Against the Dark Arts until that afternoon, and all morning and during lunch, Angelina, Katie, Alicia, and Lee had taken the bait and called them by the wrong names. McGonagall had looked slightly suspicious at the beginning of Transfiguration, but she fell for it too.

_Kind of depressing, isn't it?_ George wrote during class, when they were supposed to be taking notes.

_Yeah_, Fred wrote back. _Though I can't see why. You get to pretend to be me, and we both know I'm the more striking twin._ George rolled his eyes and sent the scrap of parchment back with a picture of Fred looking like a hag.

Their ruse went swimmingly until they showed up at Moody's classroom for Defense Against the Dark Arts. They were earlier than usual, because Angelina had started sidling up to George and asking him if he wanted to head for the darkest corner of the library, which Fred hadn't liked at all. They'd gotten away from her before she could get suspicious about George's less-than-thrilled reaction to her proposition. And since they were never early if they could help it, they learned something new that day: the class before theirs was Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff third years.

George watched disinterestedly as the younger students walked past, talking about whatever scary thing Moody had just shown them, or asking each other what they were going to do in Hogsmeade that weekend. Some of them still looked nervously at Fred and George, even though the Stephen Cornfoot incident was weeks ago now and neither of them had hit anyone since. George was very close to shouting "_BOO!_" at the next student that looked at him, and then Luna came floating out of the classroom.

George, who had been leaning against the wall with his arms crossed in front of him, straightened so quickly he nearly stumbled. Luna only smiled serenely at him, her wand stuck behind her ear. She had radish earrings on today. "Hello, George," she said to him. "Hello, Fred."

Fred's eyes bugged, but only for a moment. "No, you've got it wrong," he said with a grin. "I'm George, that's Fred."

Luna shook her head and sighed, as though she were dealing with very small children. "George already tried that with me," she said. "I know you're Fred, Fred."

Moody came stumping out into the corridor behind her, magic eye swiveling like crazy. "Ten points to Ravenclaw for constant vigilance," he barked. "Good eye, Lovegood."

"Thank you, Professor," Luna said dreamily. "Goodbye, George, Fred." She smiled again at George, and breezed down the corridor towards her next class, moving as though she didn't walk on two feet like everyone else. George stared after her until she had disappeared around a corner.

"Great," Fred muttered, as the rest of their class trickled in and Moody started setting up their next lesson. "She ruined it. We'll have to try again, to see if that eye can tell the difference between us."

"Let's wait a couple months," George agreed, "and not be early to class that time. And tell your girlfriend she needs to settle down with the dates in the library."

Fred looked smug. "Can I help it if I'm irresistible? And how did Loony -- er, how did Luna tell us apart? Mum can't even keep us straight sometimes."

George told him about the freckles on the backs of their necks, and about the scar he had under his ear from one of their experiments with Fizzing Whizbees. "I don't know if I should be impressed or a bit frightened," Fred said darkly. Just as George had at the Yule Ball, he had reached back to touch the freckles that formed Sagittarius on his neck. "That's kind of dodgy, her watching us. Maybe she fancies you as much as you fancy her."

Before George could retort, Moody snapped, "Weasley! Weasley! Shut up or I'll do it for you!" Fred and George immediately put innocent, angelic looks on their faces, and their class commenced.

At supper that night, George mooned after Luna even more than he usually did, so much so that Fred and Angelina didn't even joke about it the way they always did. He fancied her, he would admit that now. And now that he knew when one of her classes was, his mind had jumped automatically to all the extra seconds he could hang out with her in the hallway. _This is pathetic_, he thought morosely, as he shoveled his food into his mouth. _Just ask her to Hogsmeade already, Weasley._

Later that night, they were sitting on George's bed working on a new idea they had for a Wheeze, with the curtains pulled to keep hidden what they were doing. George took careful notes as they tossed feature ideas around, and Fred waved his wand around to illustrate what he was thinking of.

"We could sell them separately," Fred said. "Maybe have different colored labels so you can tell them apart. And we can sell them altogether too, in packages --"

"'Skiving Snackboxes,'" George said, having a sudden brainstorm.

Fred beamed. "Perfect. Students all over England will be thanking us in no time."

As George made a notation of the potential name and other packaging ideas, he asked Fred, "Are you and Angelina going to Hogsmeade together, then?"

"Yeah," Fred said. "Are you finally going to get off your arse and ask Luna to go with you?"

George looked up, blinking. "What? No taking the mick out of me about it?"

Fred shrugged. "D'you want me to? 'Cause it was pretty fun, I'll admit that much --"

"No thanks." He looked down at his parchment, twirling the quill between his fingers. "Reckon she wouldn't want to go with me."

Fred's eyes bugged at that. "Wouldn't want to? Why not? She's only flirted with you every bloody time she sees you."

George threw a pillow at him, which Fred neatly ducked. "It's not that, it's..." He made a face, wondering how he could explain it without sounding like a whingy, jealous wanker.

"You know you can tell me." He looked up and saw that Fred was very serious, and the way he was leaning forward showed he was in earnest. "Honestly, George, if you just can't do it there's no shame in it."

"Don't let another Gryffindor hear you say that," George said dryly, stalling for time.

"What?" Fred shrugged. "I fancied Angelina for ages before I got the stones to ask her to the Yule Ball."

"Luna doesn't fancy me that way." He tossed aside the quill and parchment. "She fancies Ron."

"I _knew _that drawing of yours looked like him!"

"And I don't want to go out with someone who fancies Ron," George said, frowning. "Not like she has a chance with him, though. Hermione's got him wrapped around her finger."

Fred rolled his eyes. "If ickle Ronniekins is the only obstacle to the girl you fancy, then what's stopping you?"

George opened his mouth to retort, "everything!" but then he paused. If Ron had given her any hope of a relationship that would have been another matter, but as far as he knew Ron had done no such thing. Most people looked past Luna, George had noticed, and only paid her heed when someone was doing something cruel to her. Just the thought of how Stephen Cornfoot had plotted to embarrass her in front of everyone made him clench his fists in anger.

Fred nudged him with his shoulder. "Curfew's not for another hour," he said. "She's a Ravenclaw, she's probably in the library."

George looked at him, eyes wide. "Fred, I'm --"

"I know. We can finish up this stuff with the joke shop some other time."

George slid off the bed and pulled his trainers back on. "Fred," he said, "you were always my favorite twin, you know."

"I won't tell the others you said that," Fred said with a wink. "I want a full report when you get back."

George saluted smartly, though he ruined it by grinning, and ran out of the sixth year boys' dormitory, through the common room, through the portrait, and on to the library.

He was confident like he never had been before. Fred was right; Luna _had _to fancy him as much as he fancied her. She was always smiling at him during meals, and she did kiss him after the Yule Ball... George picked up his pace. Not even having Peeves shooting spit balls at his head slowed him down.

The library was nearly empty when he burst through the door, for it was, just as Fred had said, only about another hour until curfew. George was glad, for he wanted as few people as possible to witness the event just in case Luna said no. Because maybe her dad was one of those strict ones, who wouldn't let his daughter date until she was thirty. With his luck, it would be something like that.

She was sitting by herself in the corner, a whole stack of books beside her and her wand tucked behind her ear for safekeeping. He stopped at the end of the row of bookshelves, suddenly incapable of movement. This was it. Merlin, he was really going to do it.

He was going to ask her to Hogsmeade.

After his heart stopped pounding, he'd ask her.

Pretty soon he'd do it.

Any time now.

Luna looked up from her book and her eyes fell on him immediately. "George," she said, smiling dreamily. "Hello."

"Er -- hello," he said. "I'm -- I'm not disturbing you or anything?"

"Oh no, not at all." She placed a marker in her book and closed it. He swallowed, trying to pretend his hands weren't shaking, and took the seat across the table from her. "I was looking up a few things for Care of Magical Creatures."

"You mean you don't already know everything about them?" George said, grinning.

"No," Luna replied solemnly. "We don't learn about creatures like Crumple-Horned Snorkacks, which is a shame. I would think that if anyone could find one, it would be Professor Hagrid."

"Yeah," George said. He had no idea what to say next that would make a good lead into asking her out.

"Did you have to look up something too?" Luna asked.

"No...just -- out for a nighttime stroll..." His voice drifted off. He contemplated banging his head against the table, for surely that would be less painful than this conversation.

"It is a very nice night, isn't it?" Luna said. "Maybe I should start taking nighttime strolls too. There are so many parts of the castle I've never been to."

George's nervousness dropped away just like that. "What? Seriously? Merlin, Luna, have I got just the spots for you..." He delved right into his secret knowledge of Hogwarts Castle -- heretofore only known to him and Fred -- and watched delightedly as Luna soaked in his every word.

"There are really secret passages here?" she said, looking as though nothing else could make her more excited. "I always thought there must be."

"Some of them are blocked off for one reason or another," George admitted. "Fred and I accidentally set off a Dungbomb in one and some of the masonry collapsed, so that one's not usable anymore."

"Wow," Luna said, leaning back in her seat dreamily. "I'd love to see one, George."

"Yeah?" Bloody hell, this was it, just the lead in he needed. "You know, there's actually a passageway that leads right to --"

She turned then, distracted, as harried voices came into earshot. George frowned and turned to see what had caught her attention, and sure enough, Harry, Ron, and Hermione appeared. They were on their way out, and they all looked upset.

"Poor Harry," Luna said, not sounding upset at all. She twirled some of her stringy hair round her finger. "He's having such a hard time figuring out the second task."

"Yeah," George said, heart sinking in his chest. _Great timing, Ron_, he thought darkly. "Well, um, like I was saying --"

"Oh yes, I'm sorry," Luna said, looking back at him, but only after the trio had gone. "What were you saying before?"

George opened his mouth to speak -- and then thought better of it. Even if Luna fancied him, even a little bit, and even if Ron were no competition at all, the fact remained that every time they were talking, Luna always chose to pay attention to Ron over him. Fred was wrong. This was a horrible idea. He was sixteen, she was a third year. They were in two different houses. It just wasn't conceivable.

"Nothing," he said. "It was nothing important. Good luck studying, Luna."

"Thank you, George," she said pleasantly. "Good night."

"'Night."

George got up and dragged his feet as he walked towards the door, hands shoved in the pockets of his faded jeans. He would just not be interested in her in that way, and that was that. There were tons of other girls at this school that would love to go with him to Hogsmeade. But he and Luna? They would just be friends.

"George! Or Fred, whichever one you are."

He turned as someone called, and found Alicia coming from the back of the library, her school bag slung over one shoulder. "Fancy meeting you here," she said, smiling broadly at him. "I thought you two didn't study."

He gave her a lopsided smile. "Who said I was studying? Maybe I was just snogging some lucky girl over in the Herbology section."

"Now I know you're lying," Alicia said, laughing, as they left the library and started up to Gryffindor Tower. "I was just in the Herbology section, and there was nothing nearly that exciting going on there."

"Ah, you've caught me." He fell so easily into the way he bantered with Alicia. They had known each other and been friends since their first year, and it was ...comfortable. Familiar. "What were you doing there?"

"Trying to cram in some more information before our test next week," she said. "But it's getting late now, and if I look at one more plant description my head is going to burst." They walked in silence for a few steps. "But really, what were you up to? Should I avoid the library tomorrow, in case you planted more Garroting Gas pellets?"

"Actually...no," George said, having a brainstorm. "I was looking for you, Alicia."

She blushed at that, and though it was subtle he saw it right away. "Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Not going to use me as another one of your guinea pigs, are you?" she said, and just like that it hit George that Alicia liked him. Like, _really_ liked him. Fancied him, even. And if she had a thing for him, it would only make his plan to Not Think About Luna Lovegood As More Than A Friend even easier to initiate.

"No," he said, "I was wondering if you were going with anyone to Hogsmeade this weekend."

The pause between his question and her answer was perfectly timed, he knew: long enough that she didn't seem too eager, but short enough that she didn't sound completely disinterested. "No, not yet," Alicia said, smiling at him. "Is someone asking?"

"Maybe." He grinned back at her.

"Well, maybe if someone asked, maybe I'd say yes."

"Then maybe I'll meet you at the Three Broomsticks?"

She laughed and he liked the sound of it. How hadn't he noticed her laugh before? "Maybe I'll be there," she said, as they arrived in front of the Fat Lady's portrait. He said the password, and they both stepped into the common room.

Fred was scratching a few things onto the parchment they'd been taking notes on earlier, but he looked up as soon as George entered the sixth year boys' dormitory. "So?" he said. "How'd it go?"

"Alicia and I are going to Hogsmeade together on Saturday," George said, flopping onto his back on his bed.

Fred frowned at him, confused. "Wait -- how do you go to the library to ask out one girl, and then end up going out with a completely different one?"

"The One Girl acts uninterested, and the Completely Different Girl happens to be in the right place at the right time."

"So she said no." Fred had slid off of his bed and was now leaning against one of the posts of George's.

George hid his eyes under his arm. "I never asked her," he said bitterly. "My favorite brother happened to walk past at the opportune moment, and that was it. She's just not into me, Fred."

"And Crumple-Horned Snorkacks actually exist," Fred said. "George --"

"I have a date with Alicia," George said, sitting up. "I like her, she likes me."

"You --" Fred stopped, eyebrows drawn together at the middle. "Oh, bugger," he said, sighing. "I give up."

"Well thanks."

"You're digging your own grave from now on." Fred climbed back into his bed and shut the curtains behind him, and that was the end of that.

The rest of the week flew by, what with classes and homework and other things that George paid little attention to, and before he knew it, Saturday morning had come, and he was queuing up with the other students to have his permission slip for Hogsmeade checked by Filch.

"I've got my eye on you two," he said, glaring at him and Fred when they stepped forward. "If you bring back so much as a Dungbomb --"

"Mr. Filch! We'd never do such a thing," Fred cried dramatically, hand over his heart.

"You've made us see the light, Mr. Filch," George declared. "We've renounced our evil ways forever."

Alicia had already arrived at the Three Broomsticks when George walked in, kicking the snow off of his hand-me-down winter boots. "Hey, slow poke," she teased.

"Hey yourself." He slid into the opposite side of the booth.

"I only just ordered us butterbeers, so they should be here in another minute." George nodded, and the conversation wandered away into other topics: how upset they were that the Quidditch season had been cancelled, who would replace Wood as their Keeper, who would be trying out for the other teams. So basically, they talked about Quidditch.

Their butterbeer arrived a few minutes after George did, and not a half hour after that, Lee, Katie, Angelina, and Fred all came through the front door, their faces ruddy from the cold. "There they are," said Katie, pointing, and the four descended on their table en masse.

"Thanks for getting a table," Lee said, forcing Alicia down her bench so he could sit.

"Our pleasure," Alicia said dryly, and she and George looked at each other and rolled their eyes.

As the day progressed, and the six of them sat together in their booth, laughing and joking and just having a good time, George gradually felt his heartache over Luna fade. He had to be realistic: the six of them, his best mates in the whole world, just made more sense. Fred and Angelina were going out now, and it was only a matter of time before Lee stopped pining for Katie and asked her out too. They fit: six people, three couples. Everything was so clean cut and perfect, it would have been strange to introduce anyone else to their little group.

They walked back up to Hogwarts late that afternoon, as the sun skimmed along the evergreen trees of the Forbidden Forest and edged them in red-gold. Again, they had paired off: Fred and Angelina led the way, Fred showing off all the things he had bought at Zonko's; Lee and Katie in the middle, dancing around each other cautiously; and George and Alicia bringing up the rear.

"Cold, isn't it?" George said, when he noticed Alicia shivering again.

"Yeah," she agreed, rubbing her bare hands together. "I couldn't find my gloves in my trunk before I left -- I mean, I know they must be in there somewhere --"

"Here, take mine." George stripped off his blue handknit mittens and handed them over. Alicia took them gratefully, with a quick smile of thanks.

He liked this, he decided. He had much more in common with Alicia than...certain other people. And they were the same age too, so there was no strangeness about being seen as a cradle robber. Alicia was smart, and pretty with her warm brown eyes, and she liked Quidditch, which was always a priority. He would never get nervous or jittery around her.

"Hey," he said abruptly, just as they crossed the threshold into Hogwarts.

"What?" Alicia said. She stamped the snow off her boots.

"Maybe we should do this again sometime," he said, before he could really think about what he was saying.

She smiled up at him brilliantly. "Okay, sure," she said. "That'd be fun."

"So if any other bloke asks you to the next Hogsmeade weekend," George said with a grin, "tell him you're taken."

They chatted amiably as they walked up to Gryffindor Tower together, and before they went up to their dormitories to change into something warmer, they promised to meet again at dinner in the Great Hall. George whistled to himself as he went up the stairs, thinking about what the next few weeks would bring.

When he reached his school trunk, positioned at the foot of his bed, he opened up his cloak and dumped six butterbeer corks into it, then hid them under some socks where no one could see them. He'd taken them from everyone at the Three Broomsticks while they weren't looking.

George had been thinking about Luna's earrings. Now, he reasoned, she had enough for a matching necklace.


End file.
